JEFF McLEAN'S BLOG | MARTY POUWELSE'S BLOG
- 3/10/2002 - Bamako, MALI
- 7/10/2002 - Bamako, MALI (again)
- 10/10/2002 - Mopti, MALI
- 14/10/2002 - Tombouctou, MALI
- 22/10/2002 - Bobo-Dioulasso, BURKINA FASO
- 5/11/2002 - Tamale, GHANA
- 11/11/2002 - Cape Coast, GHANA
- 18/11/2002 - Kokrobite (no, it’s not pronounced like that you filthy bugger), GHANA
- 19/11/2002 - Kokrobite (the other side), GHANA
- 23/11/2002 - Kokrobite (the other side, literally), GHANA
- 23/11/2002 - Kokrobite (the original side), GHANA
- 27/11/2002 - SINGAPORE, and oh so close to home
- 9/12/2002 - Brisbane, AUSTRALIA, for better or worse
18/11/2002 - Kokrobite (no, it’s not pronounced like that you filthy bugger), GHANA
Is this West Africa or Club Tropical Paradise? 'Big Milly's Backyard' is an oasis, but more on that later. Oh, I'm such a tease.
Last Wednesday in Cape Coast we visited Cape Coast Castle, where slaves were kept and traded a few hundred years ago. The underground cells were pretty atrocious, where 250 at a time were kept in very cramped conditions. For the slaves, there were no toilets, little food and water, and very little light. Our tour by an informative and wonderfully charismatic guide was actually quite fascinating, and he painted the picture nicely, if such a word can be used. We got some great footage at sunset, especially across the beach, as the castle is right on the ocean.
We then found a very picturesque restaurant nearby, also on the beach, so of course we had no choice but to patronise the establishment. We had a delicious vegetable coconut curry with a beautifully thick 'shake': a tropical beverage of pineapple juice, coconut, paw paw juice and milk. Was this a little bit of luxury we were enjoying?
The next day we took a 'tro-tro' (kind of a mini bus) 35kms up the road to Kakum National Park for the forest canopy walk. The guided tour of the rainforest was surprisingly interesting. Our guide was even good enough to physically demonstrate Tarzan's secret of climbing hanging tree roots, which is apparently the done thing in an emergency. He hoisted himself with a professional efficiency and swung around in the breeze for several seconds, much to the amusement of our group. He also showed us a tree with strange little cones growing outward on the bark. Apparently, these are ground and can be used to cure Asthma. He proceeded to give us several examples and it is with considerable effort that I refrain from adding my personal conspiracy theory regarding the matter.
From the asthma-curing trees it was off to the amazing forest canopy walk. Several viewing platforms are bolted high up to the tops of the tallest trees and between them swing very scant but apparently very strong (can hold two elephants, we were assured!) rope bridges that would make Indiana Jones giddy. The rainforest is so thick, however, that it's almost impossible to see the ground below as it's obscured by the tree-tops. It was pretty exciting hearing the ropes creak as we walked along. It's a little scary as the bridges sway from side to side, and the wooden plank on which you walk tends to tilt down at the sides as you step, causing you to lose balance easily. I found it particularly difficult as I did most of it through the viewfinder of a camera, unable to see where I was placing my feet. However, the top rope that forms your 'hand rail' is just below shoulder length, and the barrier below comprises a rope netting making it difficult to fall off. Apparently, there are only four such canopy walks in the world, so I felt priveliged to experience it.
We met some more aussies at our hotel in Cape Coast... a wonderful surprise as they've been so rare in the places we've been. Quite a few brits, dutch, and other scattered europeans, but very few Ozwegians. Great to hear the accent again (besides our two).
On the road again and the hills were getting steeper and more frequent. Our planned distance was less than normal, though, which made it a lot easier, as much less time was spent under the aggresive sun. We cycled past a property with a sign on the front gate: "Do Not Dump Rubbish Here Again". I tittered enthusiastically at the implication that it was ok to dump rubbish a first time. Also, the business names in Ghana are quite different from Australia, often derivatives of god or Jesus: "God Is Strength Carpentry", "Peace & Love Beauty Salon", or the "Jesus Loves You Chemical Seller". Trucks and tro-tros also proudly exclaim "Jesus Lives", "By The Grace of God", or "Let Us Pray". Even one of our hotel room keyrings bore the large words "Jesus Above All". It seems almost obsessive.
We ended up at a small town that is not on Jeff's map or in the guide book: Essuesia. A clear sign on the highway implied that a guest house was nearby. It took about twenty minutes of guesswork, asking locals, and much cycling down very narrow dirt tracks before we got there. There was a complete absence of signage anywhere after the highway, not even on the guest house itself. We were the only one's there, so it was beautifully peaceful, also considering the fact that it was so ridiculously far from the highway. There was electricity here but no running water, so here was my next bucket shower. Personally, I think I'm becoming a bit of an expert.
We were tantalisingly close to the beach here, though it was still two bus trips away. The thought of frolicking around in the ocean was too much, however, so off we went. The beach town was a typically busy place, and we took a walk up to the top of a nearby hill, which gave an excellent view back down on the village and across the ocean. The beach was insanely busy with fishing boats. Most were perched on the sand being emptied of their load of fish from the day; another couple of boats were still on their way in. The boats themselves look like pinasses, but are very colourful with slogans, flags or patterns (or a combination) carved into the sides.
We walked down the hill through a section of village towards the boats as there was some vacant beach just on the other side. We got in amongst the boats and the activity was hectic. Lots of people buzzing about and many stoves were cooking and smoking the day's catch. It took considerable effort to get through and on the other side were walked passed a few inlets with heaps of rubbish and lord knows what else washed up at the water line. Our section of beach seemed pretty clean though, so in we went with verve. The idea of a beach seems pretty surreal to me after the dry heat of the southern Sahara and the sweaty madness of some of our 38ºC days of cycling. The joy of running headlong into the cool water and letting its virtually limitless volume wash over me is difficult to describe, though I'm sure if you've been to the beach on a hot day you can understand. It was lovely to swim with a few of the locals, and one showed me a sizeable portion of a tortoise shell, which he invited me to keep. I had to explain that I had no way of getting it home, but I thought it was a lovely gesture. It felt wonderfully foreign to be swimming at an African beach, with plenty of people around but not a white fella to be seen.
We left early again the next morning after enjoying a perfectly sweet pineapple for breakfast, which we'd seen expertly cut for one by the vendor the previous evening. Today's ride seemed tougher. The road was terrible: full of potholes and lumps of bitumen refill, and plenty of hills. Jeff described the mental exertion necessary to safely navigate us through with a minimum of organ damage as very tiring. I'm glad I'm sitting at the back doing nothing but keeping up with the peddling. Even my hands are free to wave at locals. Perhaps they think I'm clever being able to cycle with no hands.
As well as the difficulty of the road itself, we were now discovering a unexpected new side to the Ghanaian: anger. As the traffic increased, so did the number of drivers hanging out their windows waving their arms and shouting their displeasure of us and the trike. I was very surprised as we hadn't encountered this anywhere else. Most drivers, particularly truck drivers, normally wave with a wonderful smiling enthusiasm. We hadn't seen any other cyclists on this road and I started to wonder whether bikes were actually prohibited, but we'd passed a few police checkpoints and several police cars, and none made any attempt to encourage us off the road. Also, it's usually from traffic coming towards us, so we're not holding them up. The grade of road is terrible even for cars (as our own bumpy taxi ride attested) so perhaps drivers are already agro before they get to us. It was certainly not a nice feeling knowing that out of every ten cars or so, someone would yell at us.
Our next hotel was gorgeous though, even with the absense of running water. The lovely woman who worked there expressed a strange liking to my pale skin. "It is nice and bright! Very good!" I tried to tell her my terrible skin is awfully prone to burning and that the black skin is much more suitable, but she wouldn't buy it. She was a wonderfully vivacious lady who had me laughing.
The next day we cycled an extraordinary distance of 12.5kms (we average about 50 or 60kms a day). Our destination of Kokrobite (pron Kokra-beetay, thankfully) was closer than we expected, though about 8kms was on dirt. The unmade road was well worth the effort, though, as it cut around 20kms off our trip. We arrived at the picture-perfect 'Big Milly's Backyard' at 7:30am, utterly shocked and thoroughly pleased that we'd actually finished our day's ride.
Big Milly's Backyard would make you think you were on a deserted tropical island rather than the continent of Africa. It's a heavenly oasis that seems terribly out of place, and it makes me laugh how unexpected it was. This place is full of palm trees, straw-roofed huts (where we sleep), a very relaxed vibe with very funky reggae music playing constantly, and a gate that literally opens out onto the beach. There is even a typical little resort-style bar that sells all manner of tropical alcoholic beverages. We enjoyed a pina colada each yesterday with two shots of dark rum for about AU$2.20! There is a tab so nothing is paid for until the end, which is terribly dangerous. It's a little too easy to buy stuff, especially cocktails, when no money changes hands. You just wander around with no shoes, carry your drink anywhere, play table tennis or football, relax and chat with other travellers in the shade of a palm tree, or go for a stroll or swim at the absurdly close beach. Compared to what we've been though, in fact compared to anything, this is a serious slice of heaven, and as Jeff observed, "we bloody deserve it"!
Not long to go now. Tomorrow (Tue) we'll get up early to observe the Leonids meteor shower which peaks at 4am local time. We're still in the middle of the storm which only occurs once every 33 years, so if you're interested, get up around 3:30am on Tuesday and check the NE sky until sunrise and you might see some action. West Africa is one of the best places in the world to see it, so I'll be mighty pissed if it's cloudy.
At sunrise we'll bus it straight through Accra, the capital of Ghana (we have no real desire to stop there) to a border town and spend the night. We then cycle into the country of Togo to a town called Aneho, then catch a bus across the the Togo/Benin border to Cotonou, Benin's capital, where we fly out. Jeff has purposely left us a few days to relax before leaving Africa, so we'll catch a bus north to Abomey which is famous for it's voodoo culture, another well-misunderstood religion. Apparently, Ouidah (town in Benin) is the birthplace of voodoo, but we were told that tourism has spoilt the place and Abomey is more authentic, so I hope this turns out to be true.
Hopefully, my next post will be typed from the comfort of my home in sunny Brisbane, complete with electricity, running water, and a sewerage system that doesn't parade itself through the streets exuding a near coma-inducing stench. Hopefully, it will also have pictures.
Meanwhile, I'm off to sip cocktails and laze on a tropical sun-drenched beach.
Oh, Africa is so tough!
Love,
Marty.